She handed it to him. His gaze immediately captured her as tightly as if he had physically taken her into his arms…again. A shortness of breath caught in her lungs.
He brushed his fingertips against her cheek, his soft voice matching his sincere words. “Thank you for rescuing my jacket. That was very thoughtful of you.”
She was barely able to speak. She forced out her words. “It was nothing compared to you being shot on my behalf.” She took a steadying breath and fixed her gaze on the floor. “Actually you were wounded because of me.”
“Tara, I won’t lie to you. This has turned into a very precarious situation. I don’t know if the shot through the window was meant for you—or perhaps for me—or whether it was some weird random shooting and not related to the Vincent case at all. Having you stay at my place wasn’t what I had in mind. It’s obvious now that whoever is behind this knows I’m involved. I’ve got to find something a whole lot more secure than my place. But for tonight you sleep upstairs in my bedroom. Being on the second floor is more secure than being down here. I’ll sleep in the den. I’ll have some kind of plan by morning.”
She knew he was right about the situation having taken a turn for the worse. As unsettling as the events of the past couple of days had been, it was nothing compared to her confusion about Brad Harrison. There was no way she should have let him kiss her, no way she should have allowed that liberty. But the moment his lips touched hers she ceased to have any will of her own. She couldn’t think about anything except the excitement he aroused inside her, an excitement she feared was gravitating toward an emotional attachment.
And now, seeing him standing in front of her, his blue eyes searching into her soul, and knowing the two of them would be spending the night under the same roof, did nothing to still those feelings. Only the sight of his bandaged arm and the knowledge that she was the cause of it kept her thoughts grounded in reality.
This was totally unlike her to be so immediately attracted to any man, let alone one who represented so much danger, even though this particular danger was a result of her presence. But could that danger also be equated with excitement? Was her personal life destined to continue on the path of daring that was so different from the way she had been raised? Could the real Tara Ford finally be emerging from her shell? Brad’s nearness produced a quick shiver of yearning followed closely by a tremor of regret at the anger she had displayed at the motel. After all, he was only doing his job. It was a regret made all the more real by the sight of the bandage on his arm and the bloodstained towel in the sink.
“Brad…” A lump formed in her throat. “Uh…” She shifted her gaze to the floor for a moment, swallowed down her uneasiness, then regained eye contact with him. “I want to apologize for getting so angry earlier. This has been very stressful for me. Having someone wanting me dead is a difficult concept to grasp, and having the reality of that danger thrown at me in such a frightening manner…” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other in an effort to ease her mounting tension. “Well, I’ve been on edge. And then when you started prying into my personal life, telling me what to do, trying to control me…” Her words trailed off. She didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
She checked the bandage on his arm, hoping it would be a distraction from the emotional confession she had almost made. “I’m so sorry you were injured. I feel responsible for this.” The physical contact with his bare skin once again sent an excited ripple through her body.
“It’ll heal in a couple of days.” He wrapped his hand around hers and gently moved it away from the wound, then quickly turned loose of her before her touch drove him to total distraction. Her words had struck a chord with him, especially the emphasis she had put on the word control. It was the same impression he had gotten when she had spoken about her mother. Was it the key to understanding who she was and what she was about? He wasn’t sure, but it was a start.
He wanted to get inside her head, to know what made her tick. He wanted to know everything about her. Part of it was professional curiosity. As much as the idea bothered him, there were still facts that pointed to her involvement, and now she had given him what he had been missing—a possible motive in her relationship with Danny Vincent. He couldn’t simply ignore the evidence, no matter how much he wanted to.
“Grab your things. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping tonight.” He escorted her through the kitchen, into the living room, past the door to the den and upstairs to the bedroom suite. He flipped on the light for her.
“You can sleep here.” He shoved a pair of shoes into the closet and snatched up a T-shirt and an old pair of jeans from the arm of a chair. He tossed the jeans into the clothes hamper, then pulled on the T-shirt. He extended a sheepish grin. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
He turned on the light in the adjoining bathroom and glanced around, making a quick check to see that everything was reasonably picked up. He indicated the linen closet. “There are clean towels and washcloths in the cupboard.” He looked at her questioningly. “You said you weren’t able to retrieve anything from the motel bathroom?”
“I didn’t have time.” She held up the bag. “I was barely able to grab the things within my immediate reach.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out a sack from the drugstore. “I just bought these to take out to my sailboat. Take what you need. There’s a new toothbrush, still in the package, among other things.”
She glanced around, then settled her gaze on Brad. A hint of embarrassment touched her at the thought of him providing her with such personal items as a toothbrush. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”
“Why don’t you leave your things here? We’ll go back downstairs and talk for a while. I really need some more information from you.” He extended an encouraging smile, hoping he didn’t sound as if he was about to interrogate her. “Are you up to it?”
Her anxiety level increased. More questions. More delving into her personal life. She understood the necessity, but it didn’t make her any more comfortable with it. “I’ll do my best.”
Brad showed her into the living room where she settled into a corner of the couch. She glanced around, taking time to notice the decor. It felt comfortable yet at the same time showed good taste and an attention to detail.
He sat in a large chair opposite her, watching her for a moment. It was getting late. There wasn’t time for any superficial conversation. “I need to know more about John’s family. What can you tell me about John Vincent’s ex-wife and his daughter? All I know is that he was divorced seventeen years ago and never remarried. He has a daughter from that marriage who would now be thirty-two years old. What can you tell me about them?”
“Not a whole lot. I never met his ex-wife or his daughter. His former wife died about five years ago. His daughter’s name is Doreen. She was raised by her mother, sent to boarding schools then college. I don’t think she and her father were really that close, although there were a few family gatherings I know they both attended. I’ve seen pictures of her, one in particular that John kept on his desk. It was taken at a country club, I don’t know where—somewhere on the East Coast. They were having a party celebrating her college graduation. John and Doreen were standing together on the terrace. There were palm trees and ocean in the background. He did say something a few years ago about Doreen planning to get married and move to Paris.”
“You never met Doreen Vincent?”
“No. I’ve only seen photographs of her.”
“What does she look like?”
“She’s striking-looking—very attractive with long blond hair, blue eyes and a good figure. Judging by the photograph showing how tall she was standing next to John, I’d say she stood about five feet six inches.”
“Do you know her married name?”
“John never mentioned it. I’m not even sure she really ended up getting married.”
“You don’t know where she is now, do you?”
> “No. She might still be in France, or maybe she didn’t ever go. I just don’t know. John never said.”
“Would you recognize her if you ran into her?”
“I’m not sure.” She wrinkled her forehead and stared at him quizzically. “I think I would. Why?”
“Just curious.” He pondered the description. Could it be possible for her friend Judy and Doreen Vincent to be one and the same? Perhaps a little plastic surgery? After all, she said she had never met Doreen Vincent, had never actually come face-to-face with her. The story Tara related of how she met Judy and got her job seemed a little too coincidental. The sheriff’s report from the first accident did state that a couple of long blond hairs had been found at the scene in addition to the red hairs from a wig. It was an idea he decided not to discuss with Tara—at least not yet. There was no reason to tell her of his suspicions about her friend until he had more information.
“Do you suppose we could get back to Danny Vincent without you getting angry?” It was a loaded question and there wasn’t time to make it more palatable.
She bristled at his comment while fighting off her feelings of guilt over her earlier outburst. She glanced at the bandage on his arm, a bullet that had been intended for her. It only added more guilt to the load she was already carrying. She took a calming breath. “Yes, we can do that. What do you want to know?”
“What about Danny taking over John’s illegal operations? In your opinion would he be the logical successor?”
“I haven’t any idea about that. Until the trial I didn’t even know John was involved in outside criminal activities, especially of that magnitude. Surely there must be someone better qualified to answer that question than me. How about the D.A.’s office? Wouldn’t they know more about that? Wouldn’t they have investigated Danny as well as his uncle?”
“Possibly so. What about personal matters? His temperament…is he the volatile type or methodical? Does he have a quick temper, prone to violence? Or does he hide behind a facade and carefully plan out everything he does? Is he very secretive?”
She tried to maintain an outer calm as he delved into what she perceived was her personal relationship with Danny Vincent, a situation that was over and one she didn’t believe was anyone else’s business. She knew her reaction was inappropriate, but that didn’t stop the feelings. She didn’t want to repeat her earlier outburst. She took a steadying breath and tried to speak in a calm manner. “I guess I’m a little confused. What does this have to do with anything?”
“I’m still trying to figure out a motive for these murders. That will help lead me to the person or persons responsible. One obvious motive is revenge. I want to know if you think Danny is capable of avenging his uncle’s death by murdering the people he believes were responsible for putting John in prison and thus contributing to his having a heart attack…those witnesses who provided the testimony that convicted him.”
A myriad of things swept through her mind. Danny’s controlling nature, his apparent need to be in charge. She had always felt as if it was a point of contention between Danny and his uncle. A couple of times she saw him show his temper with someone else, almost like flash paper instantly bursting into anger. He had never turned that temper toward her, but had it only been a matter of time?
She tried to carefully formulate her words. “I’m not sure Danny and John were really that close, especially to the point where he would feel a need to avenge John’s death.”
“Then that leads us to another possible motive, which again leads me to Danny. If not revenge, then possibly Danny’s involvement with John’s criminal activities was known by some of the witnesses. He could have believed that it was only a matter of time before that information became public knowledge.”
“I really can’t comment on that, either. As I said, I’m not sure Danny was that close to his uncle and I have no idea about any criminal activities he might have been involved in.”
“He was close to you, though.” He knew he had to be careful in how he presented his thoughts. It was a thin line between speculation and accusation. “That could easily explain why you’re still alive and the others are dead. Perhaps he still has lingering feelings for you as indicated by his phone call last week, where he wanted to get together with you for dinner.”
Tara jumped up from the couch making no effort to conceal her feelings as she angrily blurted out her words. “Just what is that supposed to mean? Are you accusing me of something? Do I need to remind you that someone tried to kill me by blowing up my car?” A sob caught in her throat as the full magnitude of those words washed over her. She knew she sounded defensive, a situation aggravated by her guilt over having not been completely honest with Brad and compounded by his being shot while trying to protect her. She should have told him about her past relationship with Danny and about the anonymous phone calls, but at the time it simply hadn’t occurred to her as being anything connected with what Brad had been talking about.
“I’m very aware of your car being blown up.” Brad tried to keep his manner calm and in control. He could not let any emotional elements influence his thinking or actions, but had been unable to keep the accusation out of his voice. He knew he couldn’t allow his desire for Tara to blind him to the facts…nor could he allow her emotional distress to tug at his senses any more than it already was. Yet there remained an undeniable question of her involvement.
“So what are you getting at?” A hint of confusion wrinkled her forehead and carried over into her voice. She shoved down the apprehension that suddenly welled inside her as she became less sure of herself with each passing second. He had sounded as if he was accusing her of something. Uncertainty surrounded her words. “Are you implying that I’m somehow involved? Are you now saying that I’m really a suspect in all of this? I don’t understand. You’re the one who came to me and said I was in danger and needed protection. I didn’t believe you. Then my car blew up—”
A sob formed in her throat. She fell back onto the couch. Her voice again dropped to a frightened whisper that perfectly matched her despair and the fears she had been trying so hard to keep under control. “Then my car blew up and it convinced me you were right.”
She closed her eyes. The memory of the explosion, the sound of that horrible moment, played through her mind. A tremor of fear darted through her body. The very man she thought was the one to help her…the man who had somehow charmed his way into her life, the man who literally took her breath away just thinking about the delicious kiss that had been interrupted by the gunshot…now seemed to be accusing her. She pulled her composure together and confronted him while trying to suppress the painful blow he had dealt her. If she had learned nothing else in her life, it was that she needed to stand up for herself because no one else was going to do it for her.
“This apparent idea that you have that I’m somehow involved is absurd. What possible motive could I have for wanting those people dead? For wanting anyone dead? Why would I have…” Her inner turmoil choked off her words, preventing her from saying any more. She had never felt as distraught as she did at that moment. She desperately needed to bring some sort of calm to her soaring apprehension.
Brad moved over to the couch and sat next to her. As hard as he had tried to keep a tight rein on his emotions, he could not ignore her obvious distress. He put his arm around her shoulder, then pulled her into his embrace. His entire reality seemed to be split dramatically along two lines…suspicions about her possible involvement in a conspiracy, something he desperately didn’t want to believe, and his own growing personal involvement with her. He felt her body tremble and wished he could do or say something to make it easier for her. But instead, he said nothing. He simply continued to hold her as she touched his senses on every level, both physically and emotionally.
He took a steadying breath, then gathered the most soothing manner he could—something he hoped would soften what looked to be the beginnings of a battle of wills between them compounded by his own in
ternal battle between the facts and his affection for Tara. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m merely trying to explore all the possibilities, trying to fit answers to questions, to find explanations for what’s been happening over the past six months.”
Even though he didn’t want it to be so, in the back of his mind lurked the distasteful possibility of collusion between Danny and Tara, something that would not have occurred to him without the knowledge of their having been engaged. By being a witness against John Vincent and putting him in prison she could have helped pave the way for Danny to take over. Being on the inside at Green Valley Construction put her in a position to be able to keep Danny apprised of John’s comings and goings as well as his private business matters. It was one scenario that could support the facts as Brad knew them, a scenario he did not like.
If that was what happened.
Her being the only witness still alive would also support the other possibility that Danny was the culprit and his motive was revenge, but his lingering feelings for Tara wouldn’t allow him to dispose of her until a deputy marshal became involved in the matter and forced him to take action in order to cover himself. There was a great deal of what had happened that he couldn’t explain, but if there was one thing about all this that he did understand, it was why Danny Vincent would still have strong feelings for Tara. There was something very special about her and it had been driving Brad to distraction from the moment he first saw her.
And then there was the third possibility, that someone other than Danny Vincent was responsible. On the surface, the most obvious motive for killing the witnesses was still revenge. Perhaps there was someone else who blamed those who’d testified against John Vincent for his death. He had to consider John’s daughter, Doreen Vincent. He made a mental note to find out if there was any record of Doreen being married or any other name change, of her leaving the country as Tara mentioned and then returning. He also needed to find out if John Vincent had left a will. Who inherited his legitimate business interests? Would that person also inherit his criminal activities as well?
In His Safekeeping Page 11